Far away from Home
by Quickstep
Summary: Trigun fan fiction, takes place after the series.
1. Goodbye, for now

It was strange.

Jekkanadar glanced out of the window, watching particles of sand fly outside as a sandstorm picked up. Insane as it sounded, his father was out there somewhere. Actually, he had been for years, no sign of his sharp pale face or cold blue eyes anywhere, except on his son's own face.

"Sulking never helped anything."

A female voice filtered in through his roaming consciousness, amazingly bringing him back to the real world. A pair of grey eyes bored into his, the strong odor of a cigarette hanging about the room. Blue eyes narrowing, he returned the amused look with a glare, answering with a snap.

"I am not sulking. Let's see how you turn out when your father vanishes."

Aerin tossed her ebon tresses over her shoulder in a carefree manner, the subtle roll of her eyes clearly portraying her feelings concerning the subject.

"My father is dead, in case that happened to slip your mind. I didn't know him, anyways."

She replied smoothly, speaking past the cigarette hanging out of her mouth. It was a bad habit, which had begun when the girl had found a stash of her father's cigarettes in her mother's things. An odd reminder of his memory, she surmised.

_But I knew mine, and I miss him._ The teen subdued a sigh, blowing pale bangs out of his face. It was actually an old wound, but since when to wounds inflicted by loved ones ever close up?

Both of their eyes turned to the stairs as a rhythmic thumping echoed down the stairs, heralding their uncle's arrival. No one ever called him that, thinking the name didn't fit the tall, goofy adult. He also wasn't Aerin's real uncle. His spiked hair nearly brushed the ceiling as he walked towards the table; long legs folding as he collapsed in a chair.

"Hey, Vash." Jekkanadar murmured, giving the man a forced smile. Vash returned it, though his was a bit more genuine.

"What are you doing up this early, Jek?" He asked, slipping a donut into his mouth and taking a large bite. Silence answered his question. He looked at Jekkanadar and found that his nephew was doing the same to him.

Blue eyes met blue as they shared an understanding look, and Jekkanadar rose from the table. Aerin rose with him, following him out the door.

"Where are you going?" She asked curiously, a small hint of concern flickering within her words.

"Somewhere I should've gone a long time ago." He answered quietly, fingering the black gun on his belt. Aerin suddenly understood, and her eyes flared as she darted forwards to stand in front of him.

"I know you miss him, but the only thing you'll find on those sands is death!" She yelled, slipping up onto tiptoes so she might seem a bit taller. She couldn't match Jekkanadar's height, though, which was nearly equal to Vash's. So much for being intimidating…

"I've always respected your opinion, Aerin, which is partly why I've stayed put all this time," He started out calmly, but he couldn't hold the anger out of his voice for long, "But you've just been holding me back! You don't understand why I have to go, you never had a father!" As the last words slipped out, he realized he had gone too far. Aerin's head slipped down suddenly, but Jekkanadar still saw the tears in her eyes.

"No, I never did." She whispered, shoving past him and stepping into the house. The door slamming shut behind her, Jekkanadar bit his lip as he heard sobs through the wall.

He closed his eyes, allowing the uneasiness to fade away with an ease that came with practice. It wasn't the finest good-bye he had hoped for, but he wasn't exactly skilled at farewells anyway.

Slipping on the bag that sat against the door, he fingered his gun once more as if to draw reassurance from it. He was on his own now, just as he had always wanted it.


	2. Doubts and Truths

"He didn't mean it."

"How do you know? He _is_ Knives's son."

Vash sighed, hand slipping back to rub his neck. She had never held Jekkanadar's father against him before, but all good things can't last forever. Vash knew that from experience. _Well, it's easy to tell she's worried about him…_

Aerin sat across from him, her narrowed grey eyes lined with red due to her recent crying. Her chin resting on her folded arms, she kept her eyes lowered to the table, not wanting to meet Vash's gaze.

"You'll never know if you ask him."

She closed her eyes, giving off the impression she hadn't caught his words. She didn't want Jekkanadar to meet his father, nor go with him. Knives was the very same person who ordered her own father's death, or at least had a part in it. She could never forgive that, even if her mother had.

"I don't want him to turn out like Knives was, either." Vash said, as though he had read her mind. His eyes slid closed, body relaxing to lean against his chair. He could still vividly recall the time he had gone to confront Knives, journeying out to the desert with Wolfwood's cross upon his back.

Wolfwood.

His eyes opened to rest on Aerin's face, so many of his past friend's features on her own face. She brought back memories, some he hadn't exactly wanted to remember:

_"I failed to save someone again…"_

"_Well, just be more careful next time."_

_Vash look after Wolfwood's retreating figure, eyes dropping to the sandy ground where a trail of blood followed his friend's footsteps…_

Vash blinked back tears, head dropping to his hands. Why were all these memories suddenly popping up again, when he had finally put them past him so long ago?

His watery eyes wandered to the window, the sand still flying and dimming the blue sky above. The day had started with such a promise; it felt as though the usual cloud of trouble was following him once again.

He couldn't have been more correct, but this time, the trouble wasn't focused entirely on him.

-----

Milly stepped through the grocery store, a basket hooked on one arm as she added food to it. Amazingly, there were only a couple containers of pudding, which happened to be her favorite food. Actually, she hadn't been eating it much ever since she had become a mother, 'instincts' keeping her from blowing all her money on the delicious goop that she loved.

It seemed it was only when her partner Meryl was absent that she actually followed the bossy, though shorter, woman's orders. Meryl had gone back home to give the final report for their job herself. She'd be back quite soon, as they all expected.

Meanwhile, Milly was stuck with the duty of shopping; knowing that the next couple weeks' supply of food was entirely up to her. Now _that_ was dangerous.

She carried her overflowing basket up to pay for it, when a man in the deepened shadows of the corner caught her eye. His face was hidden behind blue-grey bangs, but strangely enough, he still seemed… familiar. She took a step towards him, when a splitting pain seared through her head, her grocery bags dropping to the floor as she sunk down with them. Hands holding her head and eyes watering, the pain subsided for a moment when a cold, smooth voice flowed in.

"It's not wise to be hasty…"

Milly's eyes widened as she recognized the man, but her train of thought was halted as she slipped into darkness, her consciousness slipping away.


	3. Beautiful Hunter

Jekkanadar trudged through the sands, the gritty air swirling around him, but not touching him. He had found a way to emit a strong enough energy to repel the annoying stings of sand grain 'pon his face. His eyes hadn't been disturbed, their icy blue hue hidden behind Vash's yellow sunglasses, which he had given to his nephew as a gift.

Pushing the glasses up with his finger, he stopped to get his bearings. Well, let's see… He was in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but sand in every direction. He had been expecting it, and wasn't the least bit perturbed.

He had a pretty accurate idea of where the next town was located, which was nearby, luckily. Nearby meant a few hours of running, but at least he still had plenty of energy to spare. He closed his eyes, reaching a hand into his black coat and pulling out a canteen. Shaking it slightly, he was rewarded with the quiet sloshing of water. Not much, though. He dumped the remaining contents into his mouth, returned the bottle to its original place, and hitched his backpack onto his shoulders in such a fashion that it wouldn't come loose. Jekkanadar took a deep breath, stretching his legs briefly and setting off in a jog.

The trot quickly escalated in a flat out sprint, Jekkanadar's legs merging into a blur as he picked up speed, spiked hair flattening against his head as a small smile flitted across his face.

After an hour or so of this, the town came into view, a steadily growing speck on the horizon. Jekkanadar slowed, breath coming out in harsh gasps, glasses slipping down his nose that was slick with sweat.

"Water…" He muttered, the pain in his throat searing at the mere prospect of the cool liquid. Long black coat drifting out behind him, he staggered into town, stepping towards the saloon.

Each hand resting on either side of the door, he pushed them open with both his hands and body, the scents of alcohol and cigarette smoke rushing out to meet him. Resisting the urge to cough, he walked over to the bar and slipped onto a stool, trench coat hanging over the sides. A barman, his hands filled with a towel and a dish stepped in front of him.

"What'll it be?" He asked gruffly, his hands continuing his cleaning as he spoke. Jekkanadar pushed his empty canteen before him; clearing his throat out before speaking, "Water for this, and a separate glass with ice."

It didn't take long for the clink of glass nor the slosh of his canteen to return, since water didn't take very long to prepare. Jekkanadar murmured his thanks, and then downed the water in one gulp, senses immediately clearing up.

"Ahh!" He sighed blissfully, grateful to be alive. Even in his current state, he barely flinched when the cold touch of a gun slid onto his head. Eyes closed, the only sign that he had noticed were his eyebrows, which were angled downwards and drawn together.

"Vash the Stampede. You don't know how long I've been waiting to do this."

The voice wasn't the low, gruff tone of a man, but the silky, calm voice of a woman's. He had to admit; the sound was rather pleasing to the ears.

"Ye-es?" He drawled, playing along even though the situation was far from an act. The gun dug into his head as the holder shoved it forwards, the frustration apparent in the action.

"Don't mock me, outlaw!" There was a pause, as though the woman was taking a moment to control her emotions. Then she continued, her voice as level as before but remaining fiery, "You are a strange one to laugh at the face of death."

Jekkanadar smiled, the edge of his lip curling and transforming the pleasantly amused expression to a smirk. His left hand, which was hidden within the folds of his coat, fingered his gun, his fingers tingling with anticipation. A rather wild feeling filled his senses, and his long legs straightened as he stood. He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, a sound that, strangely, made him subdue a chuckle.

In one fluid motion, he drew the large black gun from its holster and pointed it at his opponent, black coat swirling around his legs.

A girl stood before him, short black hair cut short and curled below her ears, violet eyes flashing under narrowed lids. She wore a low-cut shirt and shorts, showing her naturally tanned skin. In her hands was a grey pistol, both hands wrapped around the handle and obviously pointed towards him.

"Drop your gun!" She shouted, not paying their audience any heed. Jekkanadar grinned, spinning his gun around his finger and pointing it towards her once more.

"I don't think so."


End file.
